Dead? I'm Not Dead
by LivinJgrl123
Summary: *Original Title: You Thought Wrong* Love doesn't last forever. Theresa Paile learned that the hard way, and the one man she'd learned to hate is dead. She still hates him, but misses him. But what happens when he can cheat death, and he's out for revenge again? *COMPLETE*
1. Chapter 1

**DISCLAIMER DISCLAIMER DISCLAIMER, yup, you know the rest XD**

**A/N: I hope you like it! i felt the need to write a fic from SWAT because there arent many(that have Gamble). yeah, its romance. i'll write something that isn't romance, I promise! just not now...or in the next few days. oh well. Now i havent seen it in a while but i remember the basics: favorite actor gets killed by cop, Michelle Rodriguez got shot, the dude was a traitor, their boss is a total jerk... yeah, got it all covered :) enjooooy!**

**Please review! :D**

The funeral had taken place two hours ago in downtown Las Angeles, in a very quiet neighborhood. The sun was beginning to set in the October heat, and a rare, slight breeze rustled the year-round leaves on the trees surrounding the graveyard.

Theresa looked down at the small, simply grave stone, scowling. She hadn't cried. She hadn't sobbed. She hadn't felt anything but the sorrow of the situation settling into her bones. The tears would come later, she knew, when she was fully alone, within the safe walls of the house she shared with her older sister Thelma. Her shiny auburn hair was cut just below her ears, getting in her eyes every few minutes. Her skin had been darkened by the weeks spent at the beach with her cousins. She wore a tank top, light blue skinny jeans, and black ballet flats. At her feet in front of the grave was a single white rose.

Brian Gamble, a former cop and S.W.A.T. officer, hated getting sappy gift cards and extravagant bouquets of vibrant flowers, so she'd opted to just leave him a single white rose. He now lay dead beneath her feet, in a coffin bolted shut. Jimmy Street, the cop who'd gotten him killed, had explained everything to Theresa. She'd understood that it had been necessary to end him, but she couldn't accept the fact that he was six feet under. It just wasn't possible for her to process at the moment, even though she'd been at his grave for almost four hours. Not many had come to his half-hour long funeral, but she had come.

Even though she hadn't seen him in over a year, even though they'd broken up over two and a half years ago, she'd felt the urge to leave her vacation behind and come attend his funeral.

Despite everything, she still cared for this dead man.

Thelma hadn't questioned the request to return home, and had bought her a plane ticket. Thelma was wealthy and tried to help out her sister who was both a painter and a librarian, but most of the time she'd refused. But when her old friend, Chris, had called and told her the news, she'd had to come straight home.

She looked down at the grave, the toe of her left ballet flat nudging the freshly disturbed dirt. She squeezed her eyes, shut, remembering who he'd been...before he'd stopped being a police officer. He'd turned bitter afterward, and even then when they weren't even dating she'd occasionally see him on the street, usually headed to a bar late at night.

She turned away, refusing to cry here, in public. Things hadn't worked out. She'd left him, moved out in record time, hadn't seen him in a year...and she sorely missed him with all her heart. She wouldn't say she loved him still, because she was certain she hated his guts, even if she did care. It wasn't love that had brought her back; they'd been friends for two years before they'd considered a serious relationship. Good friends.

She walked away, towards the bus stop at the corner of the street as the sun sank lower, and the heat stayed where it was. She would go home, cry, and listen to her sister chat about her day at whatever big company she was in charge of, allowing her to distract her from the loss of her former friend...boyfriend.

As she exited the graveyard, she was unaware of a man dressed all in black walking up to the grave. He picked up the single rose she'd left the buried man, and walked away with it, glancing over his shoulder only once to glimpse the retreating form of Theresa Paile, her hair bouncing as she hurried to catch the bus as she disappeared from view, trees blocking his vision.

If she would have seen him, she would have screamed. Then punched him as hard as she could, because that was what she had always done...

When he had been alive.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hola! i am here with Chapter Two.**

**I agree: GAMBLE SHOULD NOT HAVE DIED. he should have gotten life in prison or something. but no. THEY KILLED HIM OFF! Agghhhh! anyways. (for those of you who have not seen the movie you can look it up on Wikipedia, search for it online, or if you have Netflix watch instantly).**

**Please review anddddddda enjoy fellows!**

**What do you think of it so far?**

Chris looked at Theresa with sympathy written all over her face as the woman sitting on the table stared sadly at the wall. "You need to get drunk," she said, grinning. Jimmy was sitting in the corner of the break room. They'd just gotten back from a hostage situation and their shifts were finally done with. Hondo was sitting next to him, munching on something very crunchy. Deke had his feet propped up on another chair on the opposite side of the room, looking exhausted. They all did.

"That's the last thing I need," Theresa grumbled, hating how much she wished he was alive. Despite all the hate she harbored for the dead ex-cop, she wished he was at least alive, in jail for life at least!

"No, you really need it," Chris pressed. She looked to Deke. "Help me out here, man," she hissed.

"It will solve your problems," the man said lazily. Theresa frowned.

"And give me a hangover. I think I'll pass."

"It may give you that," Hondo said, "but trust me: it works."

She shook her head in disbelief when she found herself saying, "well, I guess one drink couldn't kill me."

Chris grinned triumphantly. She playfully punched the other woman in the shoulder, who simply scowled. "No take backs," Jimmy said as she opened her mouth to change her mind. She glared at him for a moment, then hopped off the table, stretching. Her sleepless night had been haunted by memories of Gamble. She'd somehow managed not to cry herself to sleep around four that morning, but had drifted off hating herself for caring in the slightest for the dead man. It bothered her. She did not love him; she hated his guts. But somehow, among all this dark, fiery hatred, she managed to care.

"I need a ride home," she declared, marching out the door, hearing Chris get up and follow her, along with Hondo, Deke, and finally Jimmy.

"Want to ride in the back?" Hondo asked her, almost seriously as the exited the building. She smirked at him, and climbed in beside Jimmy, who was driving this time. They always took turns driving squad cars. It was almost ridiculous. Deke and Hondo didn't get into the car when Chris did. Jimmy pulled out of the parking lot and began navigating his way through the late afternoon traffic of L.A.

"So how's your sister?"

"Same as she's been the last time you asked," Theresa said to Chris. Thelma was always happy and chatty and frankly, she annoyed her little sister sometimes, but at a time like this, she was glad for the talkative buisness woman.

"Really," Chris grinned. "So what's waiting for you at home?"

"Bills," Theresa answered, rolling her eyes. She was a secretary that worked for her sister. She didn't pay attention to what anyone ever said to her. She couldn't remember what the company's name was because it had a billion words in it, so she simply called it work. She and her sister's bills were divided between the two of them and once a month they planned to sit down one day and finish paying them in record time. The time to beat was two hours.

"Want me to pick you up at eight, then?" Chris asked. The officers she was friends with were all still in uniform, and hadn't gotten the chance, or had wanted to, to change right away after getting back from their assignment.

"Sure," she said as the cruiser came to a halt in front of her and her sister's home, and before slamming the door, she joked, "as long as I make it through the day without getting killed." Chris and Jimmy waved goodbye as Theresa trudged up the steps and burst into the house.

"Thelma?" she called. No reply. She listened carefully and to her disappointment, the two-story house was empty. She went into the kitchen and found a note pinned to the fridge in her sister's bubbly scrawl:

_Baby Sister (ha ha),  
Will not be home until 6: 30 PM. Don't start on those bills without me. See you when I get back.  
Love, Thelma  
PS: Don't eat all the chocolate ice cream again. I want some too, you know!_

She scowled at the note. Baby sister, eh? She was only six years younger!

She shrugged, kicking off her ballet flats. She was wearing a denim skirt that reached her knees, a red and white tank top that had a black and white butterfly on the front, and her hair was kept out of her eyes with a thin black headband. She scowled as she pulled open the freezer to find choclate and peanut butter ice cream. Theresa was allergic to peanuts and everything related to them. She rolled her eyes. She shut it and headed towards the stairs, wishing that her sister was home. So she could be distracted. Yesterday only seemed like seconds ago: yesterday, she had gone to his grave.

She started to climb the stairs with a frown on her face when she heard it. A soft _click_. She froze, her heart beginning to beat faster. A creak of the wooden floorboards and the barrel of a cold gun pressing into the back of her head told her that someone was behind her.

"You want money? Check the invisible safe under my bed," she blurted. She silently cursed herself. It was like she had to make smart-ass remarks in bad situations. They always got her into trouble.

"Nah, I know what's under your bed, and it sure isn't a safe."

Her heart stopped for only a minute. She would know that voice anywhere. She sniffed and felt her a sudden pain in her chest. She would know that cologne anywhere. There was no doubting who it could be...but how?

"How do you know what's under my bed?" she asked. "I'm pretty sure you can't know."

"I've been in your house way too many times to know what's in all the hiding spots in this place, Theresa," he said.

She swallowed hard. She turned, very slowly, as slowly as he would allow, and found herself face to face with her dead ex-boyfriend and ex- best friend.

"BRIAN!" she screeched, stumbling backwards so she fell onto the stairs. Her eyes were wide, but tears did not escape them. Fury and hurt engulfed her.

"Do you want the neighbors to hear?" he hissed, pressing the gun to her temple. She shook her head, trying not to show him she was scared. She was very bad at masking her feelings. "Good."

"You're dead," she said, anger filling her voice. So what had she mourned, exactly? An empty grave? "You have a gravestone with your name on it."

"Yeah, see, I didn't want to use it just yet."

"What a clever disappearing act," she muttered. "Now, if you would be so kind as to get out of my house and never come back—"

He cut her off by grabbing her arm and slamming her against the wall, knocking the wind out of her momentarily. She wheezed, finding no strength to fight back. "Can't do that." He was still bitter.

"Why not?" she asked.

"Because I have some buisness to take care of before I go back to being dead," he said.

"Does it really have to include me?"

He smirked suddenly, and pulled something out from behind his back. The sight of what was in his hand made her gasp. It was the white rose she'd left him...yesterday. She looked from the rose, to Brian, to the rose, and back to Brian.

"Yeah, thanks to this, it does. Now here's the deal here: you keep quiet about me, act like nothing's changed, and you get to live. Got it?"

She found herself nodding, even though she wanted to yell at him.

"Thought you hated me."

"Same to you."

"Death changes a man."

She scoffed. "Yeah, sure,"

He frowned at her. "You will not tell anyone," he snarled, pressing the gun into her temple with more force than before. Wincing, she nodded.

"Fine, fine, you win! Just don't shoot me!"

He smirked and stepped away from her. "I'll be seeing you around," he said, and the gun came crashing down on Theresa's skull, and her world faded into darkness.

**A/N: ok, i did NOT want to wait for Gamble to make his entrance, Ya know why? BeCause i didnt feel like waiting a zillion chapters for him to magically appear. *TA DA* lol**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: hi i know im updating WICKED FAST like everyday BUT LUCKY for you I have a 3 day weekend so you get more stuff :) enjoy! I was going to update yesterday but never got around to it... anywaays! Here is your Chapter Three! :D**

When Theresa opened her eyes, she was lying on the couch. Remembering what had happened just a moment ago—wait, why was it dark out? She sat up quickly and saw that it was eight o'clock. Alarm bells rang in her ears. How long had she been out? Wasn't her sister supposed to be home?

"Thelma?" she called, standing up, feeling sore on the spot where Brian had hit her on the head.

Brian.

She hadn't allowed herself to absorb the shock of it all, of Brian not being dead, of him holding a gun, willing to shoot her. She hadn't let it sink in at all. Now she was feeling the full effects of the event from four hours ago. She'd had to accept it with a gun to her head. But now, here... she shuddered, stifling the urge to start throwing things across the room and afterwards grab a blunt object and go out into the night and attempt to find Gamble and put him back in the ground where he belonged.

Her chest suddenly felt as if it were being crushed when she finished that thought, and flinched, her hand going over her heart. Okay. So she wouldn't _kill_ him. Maybe she would get him thrown into jail...but she wasn't allowed to tell anyone. Brian would surely find out if she did and he would probably kill her or at least almost kill her. He knew where she worked, where she lived, what her favorite movie was, what types of music she liked...almost everything. It wasn't creepy: they'd been best friends since her twenty-first birthday.

"Thelma!"

"Yeah?" came the lazy reply from the kitchen. Theresa leapt up and dashed to the kitchen.

"When did you get in?" the younger of the two asked, her eyes darting all around the room. Brian must have put her on the couch.

"A while ago," she replied, looking up from a thick paperback that she knew was full of political crap she didn't care for. Theresa had never read her favorite genre of books, but it wasn't in any way appealing to her. "Is something wrong?"

"How come you didn't wake me up to do bills?"

"Your note," Thelma said matter-of-factly, her eyes darting over to the fridge where an orange sticky note was pinned underneath the older sister's. She took only two steps forward and anger flared up when she read it. It was in her scrawl...but then again it wasn't.

"_Darn it,_" Theresa hissed.

_Thelma:  
__I need some rest. Had an exhausting day. So sorry, please start without me.  
Love, Theresa_

Brian wrote it, she realized it. No one could perfect her handwriting. It was much too loopy and strange to be copied perfectly. But he had been close, she saw. He'd known her for eight years, after all.

"What is it, sis?" Thelma asked.

"N-nothing," Theresa murmured. "You should have woken me up."

"You looked so peaceful! But whatever you were dreaming about seemed to make you unhappy."

Theresa didn't remember what she was dreaming about. Brian, maybe? She snapped her fingers together. "Oh! I'm supposed to go out with Chris and the guys tonight!"

Thelma gave her sister this "you're seriously out of it" look. "Hondo called," she said. "He said that the team had an emergency and had to postpone."

Theresa's face fell. Here she had been hoping to tell Chris, at least, about her encounter with the living dead, and now she couldn't. This somehow told her she was going to run into trouble tonight. Groaning, she looked down at herself. Her clothes were wrinkled, but she wasn't about to change. Instead, she put on a pair of combat boots and a black hoodless jacket. "I need to go," she grumbled.

"And do what?" Thelma asked, crossing her arms and turning in her seat so she was giving her little sister the full effects of the 'You Know I'm Right Look' that she had perfected long ago.

"Look for trouble before it finds me," she answered, going to the hall closet and searching for the baseball bat she always kept hidden among the umbrellas, shoes, hats, and bells.

"Theresa Paile, you will not," Thelma said, standing up. "I know you were really looking forward to this and I know you've been taking Gamble's death hard—"

"_Don't_ talk about _him_," she snapped angrily. She wanted to tell her that he was very much alive, but knew that bad things would happen if she did. Bad things that would get someone thrown in jail and have a few wind up dead.

Thelma sighed and yanked her sister out of the closet, closing it firmly. "How about you go out to a bar and call me when you're too drunk to stand?" she asked, irritated. Guilt filled her up, but somehow she pushed it aside. Guilt was something a member of the Paile family could never do.

This sounded like a plan.

Without another word, the distressed younger sister stomped away from her sister and out the front door, slamming it behind her. Thelma could only shake her head. What was wrong with her?

* * *

Theresa found herself at the first bar she'd ever been to.

She hadn't meant to come here. She hadn't meant to go anywhere. She had gone looking for trouble, but instead here she was, sitting at a bar counter, some strong, tangy liquid in front of her, ready to be downed. It brought back the memory of how she and Brian had met. Yes, in this very bar, they had met.

* * *

_"A 'something that she couldn't remember', Melody," Thelma called to the bartender, who was the one of the girls' best friends._

_Melody, with a smirk on her face, plopped the strange thing in front of Theresa. Theresa took it and was about to down it when out of nowhere it was snatched away. She whirled around and found a smirking man slapping her glass onto the counter. "That's too strong for you," he told her as if she was a five year old in need of reminding for the thousandth time._

_"And how would you know, good sir?" Melody asked him, eyebrow raised, a doubtful look on her face._

_"Because it's obvious this is her twenty first birthday and she's never actually gotten wasted before."_

_"Oh, thank you, detective," Theresa said, rolling her eyes. She turned to Melody and Melody gave her another. She took it and downed it as fast as she could. The cold liquid burned her throat, but when it reached her belly she felt numbed._

_"See?" she glared at the man. Another man, who she would come to know as Jimmy Street, came up behind him. They wouldn't be partners for another two or three years. But they'd been great friends forever._

_"How many can you chug?"_

_"I don't know, detective," she scowled, "how about you figure it out since you're such a genius?"_

_"I am a rookie," he said matter-of-factly. Her eyes went wide as he showed her his badge clipped onto his belt. "Just got in last month."_

_"Good for you, rookie," Thelma said. "Now buy my sister another, since you took her first drink ever!"_

_He obliged and Theresa downed this one, but not as fast. He smirked at her when she made a face by the fourth glass. "You get used to it," he told her sincerely._

_"Thanks so much," she muttered, but gave him a sincere smile that could be as sincere as a half-drunk woman could muster. Of course, he laughed at her._

_"Gamble," he said, holding his hand out to her. "Brian Gamble."_

_Her eyes seemed to light up a little. She sat up straight on her stool and shook his hand. "Theresa," she said, "Theresa Paile."_

* * *

Theresa sat on the same stool, staring at the same drink she'd been giving eight years ago.

Melody turned around with a dishcloth in her hand and her eyes went wide at the sight of the distraught woman sitting in the farthest corner away from her. Smiling broadly, she made her way over to the redhead and said cheerfully, "Hey, Theresa! Haven't seen you in forever! How ya been?"

When Melody saw how much effort the woman across from her was putting into a weak smile, she frowned softly. "Hey, what's wrong?"

"Gamble."

"What about him?" Brian and Theresa would come here for her birthday every year, to the place where they met, and get her completely drunk for the fun of it. Although it had no point, it had been fun. Melody often only saw them twice or four times a year. This year, for her birthday, she had gone on vacation for the first time. Melody didn't know that he was dead, but she did know that they had started dating and it had ended both their romantic relationship and their friendship.

"I don't know." She really didn't.

"You look really out of it today."

"Fell down the stairs," she mumbled in reply. Melody's head shot up from the glass she was pouring, her eyes narrowing.

"What?" she asked suspiciously. Theresa had always used that excuse before she had met Brian. It had been an excuse to shrug off the bruises on her arms and on her face. The man she had been daiting before she had become friends with the now supposed-to-be dead ex-cop had been the worst of the worst: good looks, good personality on the outside, twisted and cruel on the inside. Melody shuddered just thinking about it.

"Seriously," she insisted, bowing her head a little so the other woman could see the mark on her head. Convinced, Melody nodded.

"About time you could use that one honestly," she told her.

"Agreed," the twenty nine year old agreed, rasing her glass and drinking it quickly, taking it away from her lips with just a little under half of what she'd been given left.

Out of nowhere, a hand shot over her shoulder, snatched the drink, and it disappeared over her shoulder. Theresa only turned her head to see Brian finish it and slam onto the counter, smirking. He had that look on his face, where he was only pretending to be drunk so he and Theresa could go out and spend time together once one of them got sick of their friends. "That's too strong for you," he told her jokingly, slinging an arm in a lazy, drunken manner over her shoulders. "Meet me outside." he whispered in her ear, and with that, he left, sending Melody a glare that mirrored her own.

"Be careful about him," Melody cautioned. She hadn't liked the guy, not one bit, in the first place. Now she disliked him even more because he had made her friend leave him two years ago. But now something seemed fishy to her, and it was none of her buisness.

Theresa shrugged and got up, heading for the door.

But she couldn't move fast enough.

Someone grabbed her arm. Knowing it wasn't Brian, she turned and almost screamed at the sight of the tall, handsome man she'd ran away from eight years ago. "Z-Zane!"was all she managed to squeak when he dragged her out the bar door and out onto the sidewalk.

"Let me go, you evil piece of—" his grip tightened a great deal, and she had to bit her lip in order not to cry out. Trouble had found her all right, and it came in the form of her first ex-boyfriend. She really just wanted to talk to Brian now.

"Where's your friend?" he sneered down at her, referring to Brian, of course. When Brian had seen her bruises for the first time, he had gone off without a word to anyone, found Zane, and had beat him into six weeks of hospitalized treatment, after telling him that as long as he was around, he wasn't allowed to go anywhere near any member of friend of the Paile family. Since then, he'd done okay. But now? Did he know that he was presumed dead?

When she didn't reply, he shook her roughly, nearly knocking her to the ground. "Not here," he hissed, and began dragging her away to God knows where.

"Didn't I tell you _never to step near her ever again?_" came the threat from a very pissed off Brian Gamble as he stepped out in front of them. She looked at him, eyes wide with fear.

Remembering all the broken bones he'd received, Zane let go, glaring. "Next time," he said to her, "and don't forget that you're worthless."

With that, he all but ran for it.

Theresa stared after him, knowing she would have a bruise on her left arm because of him now. A ver noticable and nasty one, at that. "I'm going to kill him." She said simply, shaking her head. "After all this time, he was just waiting for a chance for you to disappear—"

"Therese," Brian said, taking her undamaged hand gently. She looked at him, no longer afraid of what might happen. After every encounter with Zane, she was never scared, for a good week or two. It scared him, she knew, but there was nothing she could do about it. It was how she'd dealt with the pain when no one could help her and when she wouldn't let anyone help her. "I need to talk to you."

"Sure," she said, sounding half-dead to him. He winced.

"You know the armory at the PD?" he asked gently.

"Yeah."

"Give me the entrance code."

She shook her head, sighing. She was now in no mood to argue. "Sure."

He had a look of sheer disbelief on his face. "That's all you've got to say?"

"For now."

He smirked at her. "Right, and in a day or two you'll be out with that old bat of yours trying to bash my head in. I'm looking forward to it. Now, I need that entrance code by tomorrow."

"No promises," she said, a bit of her undamaged self seeping back into her voice. "And since you're technically dead, can I call you a zombie?"

"No," he said, scowling.

"Why not?"

"Because I don't eat people."

"But you're the walking dead."

"Think I didn't already know that, detective?"

Despite everything, she smirked right back. With that said, she turned and stalked away, her smirk falling.

What had she just gotten herself into?

**A/N: whadya think?**

**Sorry for that bit of random drama...got bored**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: NO IDEA about the Bonnie and Clyde thing mentioned...because im making this up as I go :)**

**but ya never know!**

"CHRIS!" Theresa shouted, stomping into the police station. Everyone looked up at her. Anger, fear, and just plain irritation streaked her face. Along with a few tears. She had spent the entire night crying not over Zane, but over Brian. "HONDO! DEKE! JIMMY!"

They all came from different directions. Chris took her arm, but Theresa had an announcement for the whole of the PD.

"EVERYONE!" she screamed. "SHUT UP, SIT DOWN, AND LISTEN TO ME!"

They all did as they were told. She had decided she wasn't going to play along with Brian. Yeah, she would get him security code, but she wasn't going to keep his fake death a secret. It was now too much for her.

A few more tears slipped down her cheek, and she wiped them away, embarrassed. "I-I have something to tell you all," she said, looking at Jimmy directly. "It...it's about Brian."

"What about him?" he asked carefully.

"What's the meaning of this?" Theresa heard Fuller ask. She turned around, her fists shaking with rage. She was still wearing her clothes from last night, but her jacket wasn't on her, and the bruise on her arm was showing.

Oh, great.

"You shut your mouth," Chris snapped at him. He gave her this 'Don't Mess With Me Look' which she returned with an eye roll. She took her hand, examining the bruise.

"BRIAN GAMBLE IS ALIVE!" she shouted angrily, glaring at all the men and women's faces. "Yeah, I said ALIVE. As in walking, breathing, annoying, stupid...ALIVE!"

Jimmy looked the most shocked out of everyone in the room besides the ranting woman herself. "How is this possible?" he asked in a low voice. Everyone knew there was no point in checking to see if she was lying: she was too upset to be lying, anyway.

"I-I don't know," Theresa stammered, the volume of her voice going down, but everyone stayed quiet so they could hear her explanation. Some of the men and women around her wore skepticism on their faces, but she knew they were at least trying to believe her. "He...he just came to my house yesterday, hit me on the head with his gun, and then he saved me from...Zane, and then he disappeared!"

She was not telling them about the entrance code to armory thing. She figured there was something very, very wrong with her for her to be thinking like this. It wasn't logical. And everyone knew that she would never cry this much for anyone but her sister. So something was definitely messing with her head.

"You saw him?" Hondo asked, looking a little skeptical but nonetheless alert. He had his hand on his holstered gun.

"YES, I BLOODY WELL SAW HIM!" she raged, snapping her hand away from Chris. "And Zane did that, not Brian!"

"Well, if this is all true," Fuller began, but she didn't let him finish. Brian had hated him ever since he'd become the boss of it all, and she had quickly followed him to the same conclusion: the world was better off without Thomas Fuller messing everything up for everyone who'd done their job well.

"YOU BET YOUR FANCY BUTT IT'S TRUE," she screeched. "HOW ABOUT YOU DIG UP HIS GRAVE, HUH? HOW ABOUT YOU DO THAT!"

"Theresa," Jimmy tried, but she wasn't done.

"HE IS ALIVE! DIG IT UP, I TELL YOU, AND YOU WON'T FIND THAT STUPID, ARROGANT, LITTLE—"

"Paile," Hondo said forcefully, grasping her by the shoulders. "We'll do it! Just stop yellin'."

"I'm sorry," she gulped, wiping her face hurriedly to get rid evidence that told the world Brian had actually caused her more pain that she let on. "It... he just told me not to tell, and I just did, and... He might kill you!"

"No surprise," Deke said. "Now come on. Let's get digging."

Hondo turned around to get the PD's attention again. "Listen up," he shouted, "all of you who're on break, off duty, or going to watch a soap opera, grab a shovel, hop in a car, and get moving! We're going to see how _dead_ Gamble really is!"

Theresa gave him a thankful look as Chris pulled her towards the doors with a worried expression, on their way to a squad car that would carry them much too slowly to the graveyard Theresa would learn to hate with all the darkness of her being.

* * *

Once they had arrived at the grave, they had ignored the media's bombardment of questions as they had dug for only an hour, with dozens of men and woman assisting. "Miss Paile," a reporter called to the woman standing a ways away with Chris, who had just explained to her all that had happened...leaving out the entrance code for the armory, of course. For what? she had asked herself over and over as she went over details with her worried friend. "Miss Paile, how did you know he was alive? Did you have a relationship with him? Were you perhaps working with him when he tried to take down the SWAT team a month ago?"

The questions kept coming, but somehow Theresa managed not to snap under the weight on her shoulders.

"Therese," Chris said softly, pulling her towards the grave, now dug up. They were prying away the lid to the coffin and a series of gasps followed the revealing of an empty coffin, aside from a few cinder blocks.

"I KNEW IT!" Theresa shrieked, tears streaming down her face as she fell to the ground, sobbing. Normally, she would never had cried for anyone but her sister this much. No one at all. But now it was real. Everyone knew. Was she going to die? Was Thelma going to? What about her friends, all the police she knew? What was going to happen next?

"I KNEW THAT SORRY LITTLE JERK WASN'T DEAD!" she managed to stand up and stomp around, forgetting the officers and the bystanders and the media personnel who were watching and filming her and sending her sympathetic looks. "I TOLD YOU SO!" she shouted, going right up to Fuller, who had a look of dismay and shock on his face, and shoving him so hard he fell to the ground. No one made a move to help him up. No one respected him that much. "I TOLD YOU THAT HE WAS ALIVE! AND YOU DIDN'T LISTEN TO ME!"

"Someone get her out of here," Hondo ordered, and Chris began dragging her away, kicking and screaming and crying and sobbing and swearing all at once at everyone around her. With some difficulty, Officer Sanchez had managed to get her into the squad car and was driving her home. She cried the entire way there, and didn't even stop when Chris silently helped her into the car and left her in the arms of her sister, who had stayed home due to Theresa's chaotic behavior.

"Shhh," Thelma kept repeating to the girl. The three women were all on the couch now, and the sobs soon were reduced to snores. Thelma shook her head at the sleeping form of her very upset sister. "I had no idea," she told Chris quietly. "So this was why she was acting so weird yesterday. But...Gamble? He threatened to kill my sister! When I turned on the news and saw my sister screaming like she was..."

"It's okay," Chris assured her. "We'll find him and catch him and put him where he belongs."

"I don't think she likes the fact that she believed him to be dead," Thelma said thoughtfully. "She only told me once that he should have gotten life in jail instead of getting his life taken away."

"Yeah," Chris said uncertainly. "Um...do you know how Zane is?"

"No," Thelma said, scowling at the mention of him. "Why?"

"Gamble stuck his neck out for her, right? More than he did anything else, right?"

Thelma nodded. "So?"

"If Zane hurt her, what would Gamble do?"

Thelma thought a moment, and then shook her head, a grim look on her face. "Can I tell you a short story, Officer Sanchez?"

"Yeah, and call me Chris. Your sister does."

Thelma nodded slowly. "Right...Chris. Well, after the first few times my sister and that guy hung out, Zane started treating her real bad. I mean, worse than usual. She never told the police and she forbid me or Melody, a friend of ours, from telling her about the abuse she suffered from. Well, one night, she came here... Gamble had come here earlier, too. The three of us had planned to stay up all night drinking here and watch TV and stuff. But when she came through that door...my god, I didn't even recognize her. Gamble saw that Zane had followed her here and, well...he sort of beat him half to death. Threatened to kill him and feed him to alligators if he ever came near her again as long as he was around."

She took a deep breath after a short pause. "Chris, I belive that if he isn't already, Zane will be dead soon. Truth is, he deserved what Gamble gave him all those years ago, and he deserves whatever is coming to him now."

The SWAT officer nodded in understanding. "Thanks, man," she said, patting her on the arm. "Call me if you need anything. If you see, hear, smell, or even think Gamble could be around, you call. Okay?"

Thelma nodded. It wasn't even noon yet, and she needed to go to work. "I think that now he knows that everyone knows he's alive, he won't come around here anymore. He's not that stupid. I have to go to work, but I'm sure by the time I'll get back she'll be fine."

Chris nodded standing up. "Remember what I said 'bout calling me," she said as she headed for the door.

"Oh, don't worry, I doubt we'll ever see him again."

_Famous._

_Last._

_Words_.

**A/N: Ha Ha! review! what did you think of it?**

**thanks for reading and reviewing and everythang else!**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: HEYHEYHEY! thank you all for reading! it means a bunch! :)**

Theresa awoke to the news, and she sat up, groggy, remembering everything. She stared at the screen. She wasn't crying anymore. She rubbed her eyes sleepily and squinted.

"Next up," the female reporter gushed, "before we get into our headline story tonight, a man was brutally beaten half to death and was found in alley next to a family park. Here is an interview with the man, which will lead up to tonight's top story!"

She rolled her eyes, but she had a bad feeling about this.

The camera zoomed in, to her horror, on Zane, who was in the hospital. Beaten, bloody, and broken. "He...he did this to me..." he wheezed. She couldn't but feel thankful towards Brian now. Yes, she was glad her ex was in the hospital, hopefully dying.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"Your welcome."

She didn't even turn around to see if it was him or not. She sprang up from the couch to run but found herself being hurled against the wall next to the television, and was face to face with a very unhappy Brian.

"Long time, no see," he said, pinning her arms to her sides. At least he wasn't holding a gun to her head. He wasn't glaring, either.

"LET GO OF ME!" she shouted, struggling uselessly.

"I thought I told you not to tell anyone I was alive," he said calmly, yanking her by the arms away from the wall and shoving her onto the couch. He leaned down so he was eye level with her.

"You _did_," Theresa said.

Brian opened his mouth, but the television caught his attention. The camera had zoomed in on the police digging up his grave, with her crying and being dragged away as the media watched in fascination.

"It is apparent that this woman is greatly upset by this recent discovery," the female reporter said. Theresa felt her stomach drop to her feet. Oh God. Gamble had just seen her cry...no, have a break down...on public television. "Research has confirmed that this woman is none other than his best friend, Theresa Paile, sister to Thelma Paile, owner of..."

Brian turned back to Theresa, who had scooted away from him as far away as possible. He slowly sat down on the couch next to her, his gaze intense.

"Therese?" he asked in a low voice.

"Uh..."

"Did I just see you..."

"Go ahead. Rub it in my face!" she glared at him.

He looked at her with disbelief written on his face. "Rub it in? I wouldn't do that! Well...not to you, anyway. To Street, maybe, but not you."

"Uh...so are you going to kill me now?"

"No."

"But you said—"

"Changed my mind."

She didn't nod. She didn't say anything.

"You're not you're usual self."

"You know, because there's an ex-cop in my living room who's supposed to be in a cell for life rotting away."

His eyebrows shot up. "I thought you didn't care."

"About what?"

"About _me_."

"I don't." A lie. A total lie.

"Then why are you crying?"

"I'm not!"

"Oh, sure," he said, and to prove himself right, he put a finger to her cheek and took it away so she could see one tear on his finger. Her eyes widened. She hadn't even been aware that her eyes had been stinging with tears since she woke up.

"Get out!"

"Not yet. I need that entrance code."

"Whoops. Never got it."

He sighed, ran a hand through his very short hair, and stood up. Grabbing her arm, he began dragging Theresa towards the front door. She didn't struggle; she just dragged her feet a bit.

"Come on," he sighed. "You're coming with me. I kind of wish you'd just listened to me in the first place."

"And I kind of wish you weren't here in my house."

He looked back at her with a smirk. "You still like me."

"I do not love you!"

"I never said you did."

She glared. "Yeah, you still like me," he confirmed as he shut the door behind her, locking it with a spare key that she had never seen before.

"Where did you...?"

"I had it made four years back. Came in handy when picking the lock got old."

She shook her head, remembering the nights when she'd taken sleeping pills and had fallen into a drug-induced slumber on the couch, not able to come to the door to let Brian in.

"Come on," he said, pulling her towards a black sedan. "You get to ride shotgun."

**A/N: APOLOGIES, good people, for the MEGA SHORT CHAPTER. but i want it to be a mystery on what happens next!**

**please review!**

**thanx for reading :)**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: No, I dont enjoy doing this to you (you know who you are! hahaha!). to be honest, i like shorter chapters because i can plan ahead more easily what will happen instead of having a 5000 word thing and then want to change something. its just much easier to do it this way. And then you dont have to wait a week for me to update :D**

**Review (pretty please), read, and ENJOY, good people!**

"Where are we going?" Theresa asked as soon as he'd made sure she was securely in her seat and her door was locked, and they were driving.

"To the station," he replied, glancing at me. "Since you _forgot_ to get the entrance code to the armory."

"I did not _forget_," she said, "I just never got it. I was upset. I wasn't thinking about me dying; I was thinking about you."

"You _do_ like me," he said smugly, turning a corner.

Theresa glared at him, looking at him closely. He was wearing all black. What perked her interest was the handcuffs and the gun. He caught her looking and said, "try anything, Therese, and I _will_ cuff you."

She rolled her eyes, but she didn't miss the teasing note in his voice. "Do not," she muttered.

"Do, too," he said, catching on.

"Do not," she said a little louder.

"Do too!" he said, stopping in front of the station finally.

"I do _not_—" he grabbed her arm and yanked her towards him so she was only a few inches away from him. She was momentarily caught in his blue eyes, and felt a blush climbing her cheeks.

"Oh_ yes_ you do," he smirked, letting her go. He got out of the car. She unbuckled herself as he came around and opened her door, taking her other arm and began dragging her towards the building. "Stop dragging your feet," he told her. She was doing it on purpose. She gave him a look of defiance which earned her a frown. "Therese."

She stopped completely and found herself gazing up into those handsome eyes...

"You like me. Stop denying it."

She snapped out of her daze and struggled to get free of his hold. "Unhand me, you idiot! I can walk all by my merry self, thank you!"

His eyes widened and his smirk grew. "_Unhand_ you? Since when did you go medieval on me?" he laughed, shaking his head, but he didn't let go. The armory was only a few yards away. It had a garage door and a back door that was accessable through the main building. She'd only been in there a few times, but when she had, she had been warned not to touch _anything_.

They were in front of the key pad. She bit her lip nervously. Hondo would have her head on a stick if she gave him the code, and he would give the rest of her to the team to bury the body.

Suddenly, she didn't care anymore. She just didn't care.

"Four, seven, nine, seven, eight, one, three," she said slowly as he punched in the numbers.

"Oh, so now you like me even _more_?"

"Don't push your luck," she said, taking a step forward.

He grabbed her arm, smirking. "No way am I letting you in there, Paile. You could blow my head off without a second thought."

"Then I'll just run away if you leave me out here," she scowled, folding her arms tightly over her chest.

He shook his head, his smirk fading. "Can't have that," he muttered, not letting go. He sighed and then dragged her towards the door, which was still slowly opening. His patience wearing thin, he ducked under it, pulling her with him.

"Why do you need to be in here?" she asked as he switched on the light and quickly began searching the endless rows of weapons. His eyes fell on a rocket launcher, and he grinned. Still not letting go of her, he went over to it and expected it closely.

"The thing still works," he said under his breath. Noticing her slight struggle, he released her. "Run, and I _will_ cuff you." She rolled her eyes and turned half way around before her eyes fell on a hunting knife. Without even thinking she grabbed it and tried to stab Brian, because she was very pissed off and was in no mood to be watched over like a destructive child. He dodged this easily, grabbed her arm, and twisted it around her back, making her drop to her knees at the sudden pain in her shoulder.

"Screw you," she spat when she felt his glare in the back of her head.

"Keep your hands to your sides," he growled.

"Like you ever did that in school." She remembered him telling her funny stories about always getting detentions. Before him, no in elementary had ever received a detention. Since he had gotten out of elementary, no one had.

He laughed in her ear, but didn't let her go. "You haven't asked me what I'm planning to do."

"It's so _obvious_ that you're going to just dig yourself another grave and pop back in and _stay_ there this time," she snapped, feeling guilty as these words left her mouth. He couldn't see her face. She suddenly wanted to take it back, but what was said was said.

His grip on her arm tightened and he pushed it higher, making a small whimper come out of her mouth. If her hands were free, she would have slapped them over her face. She had learned long ago never to let people know you were in pain. He was getting close to dislocating her shoulder.

"Brian," she pleaded finally, "let me go. I'm...I'm sorry, okay?"

He seemed momentarily taken aback by this. "Did you just apologize to me, Therese? Did I really just hear the words 'I'm Sorry' come out of that pretty mouth of yours?"

She sighed. She rarely ever apologized out loud. Saying those two words meant that she was really, really sorry about whatever she'd done or said.

"Don't flatter yourself," she muttered under her breath.

He shook his head. She knew he was smirking. He released her finally, taking a tiny step away as she stood up straight. She looked at the floor, uncomfortable now.

"I know you didn't mean it," he said gently, taking her hand and leading her over to the rocket launcher again. "Now, are you going to ask me what I plan to do?"

She shrugged. "Don't you have to kill me if you tell me? Because, like, I know what you're about to do and I can stop you?"

He laughed again, letting go of her and picking up the giant thing, resting it on his shoulder. "I plan to make something explode. And, no, I don't have to kill you because you could have shouted to your neighbors for help when I dragged you out of your house."

She sighed again.

"You're not going to kill them, are you?" she asked suddenly.

He gave her this look of pure bitterness, and she had to restrain herself from taking a step back. He just scowled and began walking towards the car, when she heard a sudden,

"PUT THE ROCKET LAUNCHER DOWN, GET ON YOUR KNEES, AND LET THERESA GO!"

She turned around and saw Hondo and Deke in SWAT gear, their guns raised and ready to fire.

"DON'T SHOOT HIM!" Theresa shouted, stepping towards him in an attempt to shield him. She knew she must have lost it if she was protecting him now. A strong hand grabbed her right arm and yanked her back so she fell on her backside. She looked up to see Jimmy and Chris, also geared up, pointing their guns at Brian.

"Aw, you do like me!" Brian laughed, pointing a finger in her direction. "You would die for me? And you said you didn't love me!"

"I don't," she said, "but you just happen to drive me insane, and I have to be crazy for still caring about you!"

"Put the bazooka down," Deke shouted, "and we won't shoot you."

Brian looked like he wanted to get shot, but when he caught his old friend's eyes he nodded slowly and put it down. To all of their surprise, he got down on his knees and put his hands behind his head. Hondo made his move, jumping him and cuffing him quickly.

Chris was helping her to her feet. "You okay?" she asked gently. This must have been planned, Theresa guessed. They must have expected him to come after her.

"We're putting him in interrogation," Hondo said to the trembling woman. "You're welcome to come and watch, and even talk."

She could only lock eyes with Brian as he was dragged away from her. He knew she'd had nothing to do with his capture. He knew that she would never, ever do this to him. He could see it in her eyes.

Somewhere in her heart, she hoped he'd escape somehow. She knew this was wrong and he should be in jail. But she cared for him, and she liked him as a free man.

Theresa knew this was only the beginning.

_A part of his plan?_

**A/N: there you go! please review and stuff, thanks so much for reading! :)**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: ok. so. I have a plan for Brian. :) hahahaha**

**...and Theresa!**

**I feel like I waited too long to update this.**

Brian sat in the interrogation room, staring right through the mirror and knew he was looking straight at Theresa herself. He knew exactly where she was standing with her nose pressed up against the glass. It made him smile lightly. But then it faded: Theresa had stepped in _front_ of him when that guy Hondo had been about to shoot him. She wouldn't have done that if she had known Jimmy's team was coming, and she wouldn't have done that if she had truly wished him six feet under.

And Theresa knew he knew that she was there, waiting for Hondo to go in and say something.

Jimmy stepped forward. "I'll talk to him first," he offered. Theresa didn't pay any attention to him. All of that was focused on Brian, who looked eerily relaxed. What did he have up his sleeve?

Jimmy went in and sat down across from him. Gamble just slouched in his seat, glaring at his former friend and partner.

"You got yourself got. Getting sloppy?" Jimmy asked.

Gamble merely shook his head.

"So, did you have fun kidnapping Theresa?" he asked.

"Yeah, actually, it was loads of fun. How about you ask her about it?" he knew they'd already gotten all the info she'd been willing to give. He wondered if she'd told them she's willingly punched in the code to the armory. He almost smirked. Almost. It was still kind of odd, to have someone care for you after all that'd you'd done in the past to piss everyone else off. But he was lucky.

It had been fun to visit her, though. And she hadn't attempted to sever his limbs with a butter knife, so his best guess was that she was very glad that he was alive.

"We did."

"And how did that work out for you?"

"Why do you have to bother her, and nobody else?" Jimmy sounded annoyed. "I'm guessing you saw the news today and I'm also guessing that you were at her house when you saw the news."

Gamble said nothing. He had no intention of killing the woman! They'd been best friends for eight years, after all. They still got along well, despite her reaction that had been broadcasted on public television and that he had made her get involved just because of a single white rose. He didn't feel bad at all; he was out for revenge against Street and his team, but he had not planned on killing Therese. No, he still loved her. Even though they had both screwed up the relationship that had messed their friendship up.

"Why couldn't you just leave her alone?"

No reply.

"Brian?"

Gamble sat up a little and cleared his throat over-dramatically, which would have made his friend behind the glass smile had they had been in any other place without police. "Because she deserved to know, Jim. I mean, if I'd chosen to blown something, say, your house up, and then you found out it was me, would you have told her?"

"No." Of course he wouldn't. Theresa knew, but the truth stung just a little. "But Chris would've."

"Chris? Is she that chick I shot?"

Jimmy tensed. "Yeah," he said, "and she'd like nothing better to put a bullet in your brain, but since Theresa still gives a crap about you—and I have _no_ idea why she can still care—we're all being nice."

Brian snorted. "Sure."

Jimmy slammed his hands down on the table, frustrated. "Brian, did you really have to cause her that much pain?"

Gamble's expression darkened a considerable amount. Theresa silently begged Street to stop talking altogether. Brian hadn't meant to, she knew. It had been both their faults, not just his or hers alone. Well, she had believed him dead, and it had shaken her world to know that he wasn't rotting away, but still.

"Brian," Jimmy said slowly, relaxing just a little. "What were you going to do with her, after you did whatever you were planning to do with that rocket launcher?"

A slow, dark smirk covered Brian's face. Theresa had rarely seen that smirk on his face. It usually meant that he'd had something in mind... she was suddenly worried. "Get him out of there," she said, turning to Deke, who had glared through the glass at the two men seated at the metal table. He looked at her, questioning silently.

"None of your buisness." He glanced at where Theresa was standing, and she blushed involuntarily. He was giving her _that_ look, the one where he was saying something really embarrassing with his eyes and not his lips. He somehow knew of her reaction and shook his head, amused.

"Really? Since she's a dear friend to us all, it is our buisness."

Brian sighed, rolling his eyes. "Whatever, Jim." his eyes flicked over to Theresa again, but there was something else in his eyes.

Oh, crap.

Theresa turned to Deke, the words flying out of her mouth before she could think about what she was going to say. "It's not safe for Jimmy, get him out of there—"

_**BOOM!**_

It was too late. Theresa was knocked back by a sudden force and fell to the floor as her ears rang for a few long seconds. A pain in her arm grabbed her attention. She gasped when she was a piece of the one-way mirror lodged into her forearm. She held back a scream, scrambling to her feet. Deke was nowhere in sight. She whirled around to find a gaping hole in the wall, leading outside. She could hear men shouting, and somehow, she could hear Street screaming curses. Had he been hurt? She stuck her head through the broken window, clutching her wounded arm. It hurt like hell, but she felt numbed when Jimmy was visible among the cement.

"Go!" he said as she made her way towards him through the window, only succeeding in injuring herself more as she knelt beside him, lifting chunks of debris from his body, helping him up. He had a slight limp as he moved towards the hole. "Go get Brian!"

She did as she was told, running as fast as she could and found herself in the middle of the parking lot, alone. She spotted a huge black SUV speeding away with only one window rolled down, with a bazooka strapped to the roof of the vehicle.

Brian was staring out at her, a dark look on his face, but it twisted when he smiled and waved as she began choking on smoke from whatever had blown a hole in the wall of the interrogation room.

Theresa began to feel dizzy as she looked down at her arm to see it drenched, knowing full well what was going to happen in the next few hours.

One: Brian was going to blow something up.

Two: she was going to hear about him on the news.

And, Three: he was going to see her again.

It was doubtful after what had happened, but she just knew that she was going to see him again, maybe at home, maybe in the hospital to get stitches...

Her world faded into darkness as she tumbled towards the ground, the blood loss finally getting to her.

**A/N: Aren't I a gunis? ahahaha NO. XD**

**Please review!**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Sorry I took so long to update! Please review :D**

Theresa had gone home, after she had been stitched up, of course. A good part of the station had been blown up. No one had gotten seriously injured or killed, thankfully. She sat on the couch with Thelma, Chris sitting on the arm, Deke in the kitchen, Jimmy on the stairs, and Hondo standing behind them the television on.

They were waiting for Brian to make his move.

And it came on the local news.

"Just in!" the reporter said, and Theresa was on the edge of her cushion, eyes ready to see Brian.

_Alive_.

_Free_.

_Not_ in a cell.

Chris put a hand on her shoulder.

The camera switched to a scene with burning buildings, mostly warehouses that were used for storage, most of them blown up. I gaped.

No wonder he'd needed a rocket launcher for this.

And there he was, zooming away in his car, flipping off the camera as he disappeared.

"Presumed dead ex-cop Brian Gamble is on the run from the police. After kidnapping of Theresa Paile, and his arrest, he broke out of custody, injuring many of his comrades."

Theresa wanted to snort. Comrades? Not a chance. Brian didn't view cops as his brothers anymore; he was bitter towards everyone, L.A cops especially. The reporter went on, "after rescuing Paile, Fuller has made a statement claiming that Paile is in danger, and that she must be protected." Again, she wanted to scoff.

The telephone rang upstairs. She hurriedly jumped up, ran past a pissed off Jimmy, and went into her room, picking up the phone.

"Hello?" she asked quietly.

_"Therese."_

Her heart skipped a beat.

"Brian! I just saw you on the news!"

_"Impressed?"_ she heard the smirk in his voice and almost cried at the sound of it.

"You idiot!" she hissed, now whispering into the phone. "I'm going to have cops at my house 24/7 because of you!"

_"Yeah, Fuller is so full of sh—"_

"Language," she hissed again. "Yeah, I know he is, but lucky for him, I don't feel like getting kidnapped again!"

_"You could always come willingly. I mean, it'd be nice to kiss you and all."_

Her face turned scarlet.

He laughed at her silence. _"Really? That still works on you?"_

"Good observation, detective," she snapped, "care to make another?"

_"You said that the first night we met."_

"So?"

"_I missed hearing your voice...after you left."_

Therese felt tears coming to her eyes. But she didn't cry. No, she refused to.

"Well, you're hearing it now," she grumbled.

_"Why the pouting voice?"_ he asked lightly.

"Well, if I get caught talking to you, you'll get me in trouble."

"_No, you won't, just blame it on me."_

"Already have!"

He laughed, long and hard at this. _"I'll see you soon, Therese. Oh, I have one thing before I go."_

"What?" she wondered.

_"Why were you willing to risk your life openly for me, back there? He could have shot you."_ His voice was serious now. She bit her lip.

"I...uh..."

_"You still like me."_

"Do not!"

_"Do too! Denial is a sign that you're lying!"_

"No, it means I do not like you?"

_"Then why did you step in front of me?"_

"Because if anyone ought to kill you, it ought to be me who does the killing!"

_"That will never happen!"_

"Exactly."

A hand flew to her mouth after that last word came out. She had just admitted to herself...and to him...that she still cared for him.

He'd won this one.

Oh, goody.

She felt his smugness through the phone and glared at the wall.

"Oh, _yes_ you do." There was a short pause, and then his voice grew soft with a promise. "See you soon, Therese. And I'll promise you I'll get you so drunk you'll wake up with the worst hangover you've ever had and ever will have. We'll spend the entire night laughing. Got it?" she nodded, and he seemed to understand her silence.

With that, he left.

She hung up slowly, blushing madly.

Somehow, she knew she was looking forward to it.

The strangest thing of all was, though, she'd admitted that she cared.

Was this a good sign, or did it just prove that the lines between justice and criminal were getting blurry?

Or maybe, she just didn't care anymore?

**A/N: REVIEW! :) thankssss for reading! sorry its so short will update again soon!**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Thanks again for everything, especially for sticking with my mega-short chapters.**

Theresa returned to the living room. When Hondo sent her a questioning look, she merely said, "wrong number" and the matter was dismissed completely. Her eyes fell on the television. On it, was Brian, grinning. Apparently, he had just sent a video in to the press.

"Hello there," he said, a bitter note audible in his voice. "I have an announcement to make. Hey, there, Therese, I know you're watching. Street, you too." Her blood ran cold. This was one of the reasons why she had been glad she had broken up with him. Bitterness didn't improve relationships.

His would have destroyed theres if he had quit any sooner.

"I'm going to say this once, and only once: bring me one hundred million dollars by tomorrow night, and I promise I won't blow up half the city."

Theresa's jaw dropped.

Was he serious?

**A/N: Yeah, I know...**

**IT WILL GET BETTER I PROMISE!**

**Thanks for reading, please leave a thought or two :)**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Thank you for reading this!**

"What should we do?" Theresa asked the SWAT officers in her living room. "Pay him?"

"Fake money," Thelma suggested suddenly, her eyes narrowed with disapproval towards Brian's actions.

"No! We shoot him!" Deke said, giving Thelma this You-Ought-To-Know look, which she returned with a glare.

"How about we try to bring him in?" Jimmy suggested.

Chris nodded, glancing at Theresa, who was staring off into space. She tapped her on the shoulder. "Hey, you okay?"

Theresa nodded slowly. "I can't believe he's being this stupid."

Thelma giggled. "He threatened to blow up the city, and all you've got to say is that he's stupid?"

"Well he is!"

Hondo looked at her strangely. "Earlier. Why'd you step in front of him? If you would have just stepped away I could have just shot him and we wouldn't be in this."

"I don't hate his guts," Theresa muttered. "Despite how much easier things would be if I did."

"We could use you as bait," Hondo said, his eyes narrowing as her eyes did the same.

"Why me?"

"Because he still likes you."

"Thanks for pointing that out," she said, glancing out the window, wondering what had gotten into her ex's head. Was he serious? She doubted he wasn't, because why would he scare so many people and then just lie about it? He had stolen a rocket launcher, she reminded herself. Oh, great.

"Who else will we use?" Jimmy asked, grinning at her scowl.

"You," she snapped.

"Come on, you know you want to see him again," Chris smirked as Theresa's scowl grew scary.

"I do not!" she protested. She looked to her sister for help. Thelma merely shrugged.

"Just do it," she said, sighing heavily, "besides, he'll only want to talk to you."

Hondo cleared his throat just as Therese was about to protest again. "Now we need a plan. Who's got an idea?"

**A/N: please review :) thanks again for taking the time out of your day to read!**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: i know its ****been forever since you saw something new from this.**

**So here.**

**Honestly I dont know where to go with this so... this is probably the end. Just cuz.**

Theresa stood outside her house, a SWAT team spread out all around, out in the open. For Brian to see. She pulled out her cell phone and called Brian, her sister standing next to her. It was about noon, and they planned to bring him in alive.

"Therese?" Brian asked over the phone. "Why are their guys with guns all over your lawn?"

"Turn yourself in," she sighed sadly, running a hand through her unwashed hair. "Please."

"You're joking."

"I'm not laughing, Brian! I don't want you getting shot again! I don't want you being hunted all the time! Can you please just come here and let them arrest you? You're welcome to pull a disappearing act in prison, but please!"

"Why are you...?"

"Because I'm sick of this, Brian! I just don't want your grave to be filled!"

"Wow, thought you didn't care."

"Well, I happen to, so please get your ass out here! Now!"

"Therese..."

"Brian!"

Tears were streaming from her eyes. The police hadn't told her what to say: she'd decided to do this herself.

"Therese."

She whirled around to see Brian standing in front of her, grinning, his hands behind his head. She gasped as officers tackled him to the ground, handcuffed him. People began to shout and scream and cheer, but she knelt and smiled at him.

"I owe you," she said.

"You do," he told her, still grinning. "I'll be seeing you about that when I get out of jail."

**A/N: Thank you for spending the time to read this! Sorry if you hate me for ending it... ehhh thats what happens when you lose interest in a story after waiting more than a week to update :)**

**Thanks again!**


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